After the storm,

there are rainbows.

So. Many. Rainbows.

The gloves are coming off, y’all.

Ever since I moved to the Philippines, I’ve felt… off. Like someone replaced key parts of my personality with a dull, drab version of how I used to be. For various reasons, I felt it best to tone down my real personality and only let it peek out to a handful of people.

See, I can be loud and passionate and boisterous. I can curse like a sailor and drink like a fish and smoke like a chimney. I am a devoted mother and a philosophical poet and a rebellious wildchild. I am all of these things, but living here, for whatever reason, I decided to be one-sided, one-dimensional. 

Maybe I thought that I stood a better chance of people understanding me if I stuck with a simple script. Maybe I was too afraid to rock the boat (especially since my main role since having moved here has been that of “mother”). Whatever the reason, I’ve never been completely, 100% myself – especially at school. In the school setting, I’ve never worn bold makeup, or said the word “fuck”, or called people out on their BS. Sure, I speak up and say my piece once in a while. But when the moment is over, I’m back to being bland. 

Well, now things have changed. A morality program at school stirred up a lot of passion that I’d kept dormant within me, and now I feel more alive and more myself than I have since I moved here. Whereas before I would have been careful to adhere to peoples’ wishes of me, now I feel strong enough to accept that authoritative figures may not like what I’m about.

Truth? I’m a bit apprehensive that teachers may take their feelings out on my grades. I don’t know how to deal if this were the case.

But also: I can’t look my kids in the eye – hell, I can’t even look at my own damn reflection – knowing that I didn’t step up when I could have. I can’t feel good about myself knowing that I let an opportunity to educate people slip on by. I can’t stand the idea that I’ve become one of those docile puppets who lays low to avoid confrontation. I just can’t do that. I just can’t be that way.

I’m not trying to be offensive, rude, or disrespectful. I’m just tired of making myself small because other people can’t handle the big, beautiful, real me. 

Back to basics.

I go on FB and see what all my old friends are up to: performing poetry to sold out shows, writing books that are out of print on Amazon, living it up in the best city in the world…

I can’t help but feel… Like I don’t know when things started to change. Or if things have really changed at all. 

Yesterday, a friend reminded me to keep at my passion, and the timing couldn’t have been better. As much as I love my kids, and I’m so appreciative of the opportunities I’m getting here in the Philippines, and I respect so much all the knowledge I’m gaining through nursing school – this life has not yet sunken into the core of me. NYC, writing, performing – that’s what is at my core, and regardless of where I am or what I’m up to, I have to find ways to nurture those sides of me.

A new beginning.

Two weeks after the beginning of a new year, and everything is already very different… and yet completely the same. I’m sitting in the bedroom, watching mosquitoes hover in front of my cat-eye frames, and blaming myself for not remembering to close the window screen after Riley opened it to make sure I heard him yell, “Mama! Mama! Mamaaaaa!!”

That was his greeting when I got home from school. 

I’d come home early because of a headache and my body’s need to relax, and there he was, happy to see me, positively radiant and beaming in his I-LOVE-my-mommy!-ness. Micah was in the bath, and when he saw me, he lit up like a firecracker and I swore I saw heaven. 

And then I remembered that Rob’s mom had passed away from lung cancer and that she’d never see my babies’ smiles, and I wanted to smoke and eat and shop and act out every other vice I have. 

It’s been a hard year so far.

I miss Rob’s mom. There are money issues plaguing me. My extended family is showing itself to be more and more bat-shit crazy. Rob and I are having a hard time being Rob and I. And in the midst of all this, I’m tentatively putting one foot in front of the other, making my way towards something better than what I’ve got, and mindful that everything could blow up in my face at any moment.


This is not a post about me.

Not directly, anyway. 

It’s a post about how my brother is leaving the Philippines in less than a month; my mom is selling her house in NYC; my parents are separating; Rob has lost his job; the nannies are thinking about quitting; Rob’s mom is dying of cancer; Rob and I have decided to wait seven years to get married; and my family – that is, Rob, the kids, and I – have little to worry about in terms of financial cushion for the future.

It’s about change, and how much there is going on right now.

It’s about how little I know about the future and what it may bring. It’s about how fleeting and futile plans are. It is about motherhood, and being a student, and commitment, and relationships, and romance, and being close to one’s parents. It’s about having lofty dreams and not knowing how to go about chasing them. It’s about realizing how much of a fuck-up you’ve been, and being at peace with the past. It’s about “finding one’s self.” “Coming of age.” “Learning your lessons.” It’s about life, and how hard it is, and how much harder it’s going to get, and how that difficult stuff – that hard stuff – is the very best bit of living. It cements you, keeps you in place, gives you purpose and drive and integrity and character. 

This. All of this is what this post is about.

(And also: I’m sick. Don’t know yet how much I should be worrying. Will leave that up to the professionals when I get back to NYC and have insurance to pay for my care.)

Okay. So this post is a little about me.

But mostly: Let’s not focus on that. Instead, let’s focus on the fact that I’ve been writing a lot of fiction, and wanting to learn guitar, and become more fit than I’ve been in a long time. And my kids: My glorious, amazing, beautiful, luminous children. And their father: the man with whom I have the most of everything. And my awesome, supportive, consummately there-for-me family: those by blood and those by choice. Let’s focus on them, and the dramas they are going through and the ways in which I may help them and become a better person in the process.

Do I know if/when I’ll return to the Philippines? Do I know what is next for me? If I’ll get pregnant again, or need expensive medical treatments, or go back to Brooklyn College to finish up my degree, or open a fashion boutique in Laguna (Philippines), or get married in the immediate future?

I have no clue. 

But that’s not the important thing. So let’s not focus on that. Let’s focus on beauty and family and love and hope and faith and things that are not about me. Let’s focus on you, and how thankful I am that our minds have touched. Let’s focus on the blessings of each moment and be thankful for each passing day.

Progress report.

This weekend, Riley will turn three years old and Micah will turn one year old. Six weeks later, my brother will go to NYC; he may never come back to the Philippines. The boys and I will follow a few weeks after him.

Lots of change happening, indeed.

I’m about 80% done with the legal paperwork necessary for me and the boys to go home: Micah  has been recognized as an American citizen and a Filipino citizen and has an American passport; I’ve completed all of my dual citizenship requirements and need only to wait for the official certificate to be processed; the paperwork for Riley’s dual citizenship will be handed in on the day that I sign my dual citizenship certificate, and then we wait 3-5 weeks for his stuff to be done. On another day, many years from now, I’ll spill the beans on all the red tape we’ve had to traverse (miles and miles of it!) and the luck that’s allowed us to get this far on this journey in only six months… (Cue sarcasm alert.)

In the meantime, I’m writing every day. I’m working on one short story collection in particular, and once all of my creativity has been expelled in this direction, I’ll work on other projects I have going on. I need to finish up stuff at school before I go home to NYC, but that will happen when time/energy are permitting; I’m not stressing too much about it. 

Rob and I are better than we’ve been in a long time. This, despite the fact that 1) a good friend of his family passed away recently from cancer (she was in her early 30s), and 2) Rob’s mom has been told by doctors that she has less than a year to live. Rob and I were having a hard time navigating between the expected emotional pitfalls pertaining to sickness and death, and the general hang-ups we face on a day-to-day basis. Time difference and long distance are hard enough to contend with, but with the weather here in the Philippines having taken a drastic turn toward cool/cold (strange in the tropics!), the kids have been catching colds and other viruses left and right. I’ve been stressed, trying to keep them safe. I’ve also been stressed dealing with money issues, as the recent developments have forced me to cancel the boys’ huge birthday party in lieu of completing our legal paperwork asap.

I’ve become more centered in the past few days. Exercise and meditation have allowed me to find a semblance of inner peace that I lost a long time ago. I took a detour into consumerism for a while and bought a lot of clothes, which helped me feel better about my body and thus ease into my current state. I also spent more quality time with the kids, on communication issues with Rob, and on writing. All of this has helped a lot, and I’m having an easier time expressing myself and knowing just who I am.

My soul feels more free these days. But also very heavy. Lots of big things to come.

The Great Lull: Full Speed Ahead.

I’ve always needed to be the one with the big mouth, yelling from the rooftops all the big ideas that were spewing out from my brain. I’ve always had to dissect and examine every single aspect of my life. (Maybe because the philosophy student in me really believes my life wouldn’t be worth living otherwise.) I’ve been the thinker, the one who sits and contemplates and tells you what’s going to happen before it happens. I’ve been the one to make plans and draw conclusions and just know things

But not anymore.

I just don’t feel compelled to share all of that anymore. The plans, the details, the behind the scenes stuff—I think I’ve finally had my fill of TMI. Now, I reserve all of the Important Stuff for good friends and my non-blog writing. I’m just quietly pushing along, doing what I have to do, and enjoying what I’ve got. I don’t feel the need to show off my assets, or make a big deal about how I’m living, or make sure that everyone knows what I know. I have a newfound sense of self-worth and confidence that surpasses the need to talk about myself and pick apart my every decision ad nauseum.

At least, that’s what I’m feeling right now. Ask me again tomorrow.

For now, life is good and hard and exciting, and I am thankful for every single one of my blessings. I am content and happy and absolutely owning Maslow’s hierarchy. 

Fresh air.

I was born in the beginning of October, which means that I’m a Libra. Libras fall under the heading of “air sign.”

I don’t know much. But I know that.


It’s 4:30 in the afternoon, and I’m lying in bed, fighting my carpal tunnel and/or arthritis in order to type. It hurts to grip a pencil and to open a bottle of medicine and to reach for my kids. But that’s what I’ve been dealing with the past few weeks.

The nannies have been on vacation because I expected to be in NYC by now and I didn’t want to rearrange their plans just because we’re not abroad. My brother’s been a big help just by looking after the boys for 30 minutes each day so that I can shower—but that’s all the help I’m getting. It’s just me, a 34-month old, and a 10-month old. I clean the five-bedroom house we live in, cook three square meals a day, and take care of the kids. It’s not easy, but it’s gratifying. I’m beyond proud to be able to say that I’ve gotten control of this domestic life within a couple of weeks.

School-wise, I’m at a stand-still. I decided months back that I would take a year off. I was supposed to take the kids back to NYC asap because Rob’s mom has stage four cancer and would like to see her grandsons before she dies. Only thing is, we’ve hit a lot of snags. Problems with paperwork and red tape. Drama that would make your head spin if I got into it.

I don’t know what the future has in store, if we’ll end up going or not. Right now though, my plans don’t include going home any time soon. I want to get my dual citizenship taken care of asap so that I can work at a call center and save money. Due to my grandma’s death, Rob’s car accident, Riley’s hospitalization, and other factors, finances are beyond tight right now; I’ve decided that I’m going to pay for my tuition from here on out.

Not Rob. Not my parents. Not Rob’s parents. Me. No loans or borrowing or credit cards. I’m going to pay for the rest of my nursing school education out of pocket. I’m going to pay for my own tuition, and all of the expenses that go with it.

Also: I’m going to pay for Riley to go to daycare, and for clothes for the kids, and for a life that’s closer to the one that I want. I’m frustrated at my circumstances and need to feel in control of something.

I need to feel like I’m getting a kick-ass nursing education, and that I’m good at what I do. I need to feel like I’m an amazing mother, and honestly, only now, after being a stay-at-home-mom do I feel that I can claim that title. I need to feel that I’m in a relationship that works. I need to regain faith in myself and the future; I keep on fumbling the former and I’m afraid I’ve permanently lost the latter.

I’m angry at Rob for being so goddamn hard to communicate with.

I’m anxious about my health because I haven’t fixed any of my problems, haven’t gotten my skin biopsy or cervical biopsy, and haven’t taken thyroid meds or consulted specialists or gotten answers.

I’m sad because of all the death that’s been surrounding me, and because of my parents’ shortcomings and how they affect me and my own family.

I’m tired of making lemons into lemonade. I think I’m just going to suck on some lemons and see where it takes me. I can’t deal with pretending to be happy all the time just for the sake of other peoples’ comfort.

I am learning to be brief and concise. I am learning to be ambiguous, and to not share as much of my life as I would have done before. I am learning to keep to myself, to let the internal workings do their thing, and to trust whatever is in me.

Point blank: I’m not in an easy place. It’s not a bad place, per se. It’s just terribly difficult. My plate is full of worry and anxiety and frustration. I want to get to the next stage, to a place where I already have my BSN and at least one finished manuscript that I’m damn proud of. I want to kill my board exam and pass the NCLEX with flying colors. I want to add on to my family and move back to NYC and feel… different. I want life to be easier and fun and happy.

Because this? This lack of money, lack of power, lack of control? This overthinking that I do? These expectations for myself and for others that I have? They’re too much. It’s all just too much for me right now. And the more I try to fix things and realize that I just muck up the gears, the more frustrated and angry I get.

I need a break from everything that is unnecessary. I need to strip away the stuff I don’t need and get to the bare essentials.

I’m working Maslow’s hierarchy, one level at a time.

I’m climbing it, trying to get to self-actualization.

And taking as many deep breaths as I can on the way up.

Just in the nick of time.

I was channel surfing the other day, and happened upon a part in Scandal where the main character and her friend are having a fight about a case they’re working on. The main character is yelling at her friend and defending her reasons for acting as she did. When she’s done, her friend yells right back at her, just as vicious and gangsta: she has made a mistake in the way she is handling the case, and her friend let’s her know. The friend says something along the lines of, “The real Olivia Pope busted my abusive husband’s knee caps and got me the hell out of that fucked up marriage. You do NOT get to decide when you’re going to be her and when you’re going to act like somebody else.” I know, I know. Old g style, yeah? I gotta start watching from the beginning, and then on the regular.

But, anyway: That’s what I needed and that’s what I got. I needed someone to remind me what the real Maria Rubio is like. I needed someone to remind me how ballsy I am, how I see the world and my self, and how committed I am to my family. I needed someone to remind me why I am who I am, and that as much as I like pissing off my dad, he is NOT the reason I do what I do or am who I am, and I’m nothing like him. I needed someone to remind me about my patterns in behavior, and the great leaps I’ve made to change the bad patterns in my behavior and improve the good patterns in my behavior. I needed someone to remind me how much faith I have in myself, and in the universe, and in people, in general. I needed someone to remind me who I was when I met Rob, and how we’ve both changed, and how we still know the fundamental parts of each other. I needed someone I trust. I needed someone I love. I needed someone who has as much faith in me as I usually do (on a good day).

And thankfully, I got exactly what I needed exactly when I needed it.

Now, I’m keeping my head on straight and doing what I have to do to be happy and healthy and the best I can be. No more excuses. No more stupid mistakes. Life is good, and for the first time in a long time, it feels good too.

No one reads this blog anymore.

So it’s safe to let it all out. To say that I’m in a very hard place, where money is tight, I have two kids to support, the culture is completely different from what I’m used to, I have no support system, and my grades are in question. I can say that I’m questioning what it means to love someone, to be in love, and to raise a family. I can say that I am confused about what I want and what everything means. I can say that I don’t know what the future has in store, and I’m scared and anxious and frustrated. I want to get to the next stage, but I have no idea what that next stage may be or what I want it to be. I can say that Rob’s mom has stage four cancer, and that upsets me on many levels. I can say that my own mom is really sick, and that that worries the crap out of me. I’m supposed to get two biopsies to rule out cancer. My dad is talking to me again (yay?), and he manages to upset me just by being him… And yet, I’m a lot like him, and Micah’s a lot like me and I cannot handle the idea of raising a kid that’s like my dad.

I’m just… not in a good place. And the only way I know how to cope is to write emails to close friends (because they’re not around to have face-to-face conversations with), write fiction, and lash out at Rob. 


I’ll probably be writing here more often. If anyone is reading this, HI! Hope you’re doing better than I am.